


maybe break your back, maybe knock you out

by justbreathe80



Category: Canadian Actor RPF
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbreathe80/pseuds/justbreathe80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hugh gives Callum shit every time Callum hooks up with some new chick, mocks him for it, calls them Callum's fag hags.<br/>The thing is, though, he knows Callum's actually fucking them.  Written with brooklinegirl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe break your back, maybe knock you out

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with brooklinegirl.
> 
> Thank you to strangecobwebs for a fabulous beta!

Hugh gives Callum shit every time Callum hooks up with some new chick, mocks him for it, calls them Callum's fag hags. The thing is, though, he knows Callum's actually fucking them. He knows Callum is doing the bit where he takes them out, acts like he's the laid-back, quiet type, and the chicks, they dig that, they love that, they think he's deep and shy.

He kinda really is, though, fucking deep, and a little shy, but whatever. The point is, Callum can do that, can cruise through a party once, doing nothing but smoking too many cigarettes and drinking bottled water, and ten minutes later, he's walking out with this fucking Amazon beauty type on his arm. And all Hugh can think about when Callum does shit like that, shit like pretending he's gonna fucking settle down with one of these cunts, all he can think of is Callum and the girl having hot, sweaty sex together, all long legs and smooth skin sliding slick up against each other.

It pisses him off. It makes him _horny_. He fucking hates that, because no way he's jerking off to the idea of Callum with some dumb chick. So he doesn't, he doesn't do _anything_. He waits it out, and leaves text messages on Callum's phone, and voicemails at his house, and Callum, the fucker, goes weeks without returning a goddamn call, weeks without a word.

Then he does this. He shows up at one of Hugh's gigs - Hugh didn't even know the fucker was in Toronto - and hangs towards the back of the crowd, but Hugh sees him, even from the stage. Just a glimpse of his profile, but Hugh knows it's Callum.

He's pleased - Okay, Callum, you done with the latest in a fucking endless line of long-legged fag hags? Pleased, till he hops off the stage after the last song, and sees that Callum - fuckhead - has this fucking twat along for the ride, chick taller than Callum, on tippy-toed high-heels, with a stupid smile and a big mouth. Hugh'd pretty much decided he was definitely really sticking with quitting smoking this time around, but he stops and spins on his heel and by the time he stalks out the back door of the club, a roadie's missing a pack of cigarettes and there's one already lit in Hugh's mouth.

He's leaning against the brick wall in the alleyway next to the club, taking long, deep drags off his cigarette, feeling the sweet smoke in his lungs. He's kicking himself for even thinking Callum might have come here to see him, to fuck him, after he spent all this time blowing him off. Instead, he brings that chick along with him, and Hugh can't believe that he's getting turned on picturing them together. He rubs the heel of his hand against his cock in his jeans, and bangs his head against the brick wall. So fucking stupid.

He doesn’t even hear the door open, doesn't notice Callum until he reaches up to take the cigarette out of Hugh's mouth. He taps the ashes on the ground. "Yeah, tell me something I don't know," he says. Hugh hadn't realized he'd said anything out loud. He looks up, and Callum's got Hugh's cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and he's grinning, and Hugh wants to punch him and fuck him into the wall, at the same time if possible.

"Fuck off. Don't you have to get back to your fucking girlfriend?" Hugh shoots back. God, Callum is such a fucking _cunt_ sometimes.

Callum looks him up and down, and there's no way that he doesn't notice Hugh hard as a rock in his pants. Shit. God, this sucks. He bangs his head against the brick again.

Suddenly, Callum's right up against him, pressing him into the wall, and, fuck, Callum's hard too, he's so fucking hard. Christ, yeah. "I don't think you want me to go back to my girlfriend. Or, maybe you want her to join us?"

Hugh groans, pushes his hips against Callum's, and Callum laughs. Hugh is so fucking screwed. He grits his teeth and shoves at Callum, hard, hard enough that he stumbles back two steps before he catches himself. Fucker's wearing goddamn cowboy boots. Christ, what has this chick done to him?

Callum raises his chin at Hugh. He's still holding Hugh's fucking cigarette and he takes a slow drag off of it. He's doing that thing, that quiet thing, where he doesn't ask if Hugh has a problem, and doesn't call Hugh an asshole, and doesn't turn away. He doesn't give Hugh one fucking opening at all, and Hugh's clenching his hands into fists, because he's got no goddamn leverage here.

"Fuck." He shoves himself off the wall and turns his back to Callum. He's wearing the goddamn pinstriped suit, and it doesn't hide anything. He's wishing for the days where he'd have a long coat to draw around himself. He takes a deep breath of the cold Toronto air and lets it out slow. "You do whatever you fucking want to do, Rennie."

Callum grabs his arm, hard. "What I want? God, Dillon, don't you fucking get it?"

Callum's pulling him, then pushing him back against the wall, and Hugh's so fucked, because he's completely lost his ground now. Callum's working his hand between them, opening Hugh's pants and palming his cock through his boxers. Fuck.

"I get it, I got the message. Loud and fucking clear, since I haven't heard from you in almost a month," Hugh says, panting as Callum strokes him. "How long you been fucking this one? Gonna marry her?"

Callum pulls away, and Hugh thinks, okay, now they're done, but Callum's not done, he's far from done. He's sinking down, to his knees, and Hugh can't even look.

He's got his head tilted back against the rough wall behind him, and fuck, he can hear the backbeat of the music from the club even through the thick fire door next to them.. Anyone could come out, anyone could - "Christ," he grits out through clenched teeth, because Callum's fingers are tugging his cock out, and - "Fuck," he breathes, and he's not looking down, he's not, but his hands are clenching around Callum's shoulders, over the rough weave of the sweater he's wearing, digging in hard as Callum's hot mouth closes around Hugh's cock, and - it's like they've always been doing this. Something melts inside of Hugh, and it's like the weeks of no phone calls are gone, it's like that fucking cunt isn't waiting for Callum inside the club right now, probably tapping her long nails on the sticky bar and rolling her cow-eyes and sighing in order to make her breasts - her _fake_breasts, by the way - heave.

It's like none of that, _none_ of that fucking shit matters. There's only Callum on his knees in a filthy alley, Callum back here sucking Hugh's cock instead of anywhere else in the fucking world, all those places he could be. And Hugh pants, his breath showing faintly in the cold night air, and holds on tight to Callum's shoulders.

Callum's moving his head up and down on Hugh's cock, and normally Hugh'd get into it, get his hips moving and fuck Callum's mouth, but tonight, he wants Callum to drive, wants to feel how much Callum wants to be here, right here in this alley.

He moves his hands, laces his fingers together at the back of Callum's head, letting himself feel his hair tangle in them. Callum's moving, with purpose, and this is nothing like the times in hotel rooms, or in Callum's house, when Callum would kneel at the foot of the bed and go down on Hugh for an hour, until he was writhing on the bed and wailing. No. Callum's on a fucking _mission_, sucking Hugh hard, running his tongue along the underside of his dick, tonguing the head. Fuck, yeah.

"God, you asshole," Hugh pants, and he's trying not to scream, this is so good. "Don't you get it? I don't care about the women - god, fuck them - just give me _this_."

Callum hums around his dick, and he's going to take that as a yes. It's not like Callum can tell him that he wants to be here, that this thing they've got is worth all this bullshit that they go through to get it, not when his mouth is full of Hugh's cock. Hugh strokes Callum's head with his hands, trying to make his point with something more than just words, show him that he doesn't care.

"Do you think about me when you fuck them?" he asks, not sure where the question came from, but wanting to know the answer now that it's out there.

Callum's thumbs stroke the skin of Hugh's hips for a moment, then his hands tighten, tugging Hugh's hips forward, urging him on. Hugh groans, and gives into it, gives all the way into this. Callum's _taking_ it, and Hugh just rocks his hips, going deep into Callum's hot, hot mouth. He's close, so close, and he looks down, finally. Callum's eyes are closed, and his hands are still tight on Hugh's hips. Hugh bites his lip hard enough to taste blood, and comes, spurting again and again as Callum rocks back just a little, but still swallows around his cock.

Hugh's still leaning there, panting into the air, his face sweaty even against the chill, as Callum pulls off his dick. He heaves himself to his feet, and Hugh manages to glare at him as Hugh quickly fixes his pants, zipping up over his sticky cock. Callum tilts his head a little, licking his lips, just as the door bangs open, pouring light and noise into the alley. He leans in close, one hand on the wall, his mouth next to Hugh's ear. He smells like come and smoke, and even now, after that incredible fucking blowjob, Hugh wants to fuck him into the wall.

"Yeah," Callum says, softly. "It's always you." With that, Callum plants a soft kiss against Hugh's neck, under his ear. Goddamn him, that stupid cunt, for saying the fucking right thing when Hugh's about to haul back and hit him.

Hugh hears the click of heels against the pavement, then, "Callum, honey, where are you?"

Callum's head jerks up toward the sound. He leans in to lick at Hugh's earlobe, making Hugh have to bite his bottom lip, hard, to keep from groaning like a little bitch in front of Callum's fucking girlfriend. Callum pushes off the wall with his hand, and walks toward the whore, who's standing there with her hands on her hips. God, where the fuck does he find these women?

Callum slings his arm around her waist. "Right here, baby. Let's go," he says, turning to walk away, but not before giving Hugh a look that says everything, everything Callum won't ever say out loud.

And Hugh's okay, he's fine, as he leans back against the wall and reaches into his jacket pocket for another cigarette. Callum's got his women, but Hugh's always there, and he can live with that.

* * *

The tour's over and done by the time Hugh hears from Callum again. He was gonna stop calling Callum after that time in the alley, really, he was gonna play it cool. That had been the plan, but, hell, that was always the plan for the first little while. There's always something Hugh ends up wanting - needing - to tell someone, though, and Callum - well, see, that's the thing: he's not so good with the calling back, but he'll say things, when Hugh finally does talk to him, things he'd only know if he'd listened to all of Hugh's messages. So there's that, and it's fucking comforting, you know, makes Hugh feel a little bit less like a dumb twat every time he picks up the phone and punches in Callum's number.

Still, when Callum shows up again, leaning in Hugh's doorway in worn jeans and a button-down shirt with a cigarette burn on the cuff, Hugh doesn't say a word, just nudges the door open wider, and says, "You coming in, fucker, or you want to do it in the hall? Hell, maybe _we'll_ make the Enquirer next."

"Yeah, I bet you'd like that," Callum says, pushing past Hugh into the apartment, walking toward the bedroom. Hugh follows, like a fucking dog, because he never even got a chance to get his hands on Callum's skin the last time, in that disgusting fucking alley. He's hungry for it.

"Might hurt your rock star image, to have people know that you're gay for me," Callum calls back over his shoulder.

Hugh catches up with Callum in the bedroom, and pushes him back on the bed, hard. Callum grunts from the force of it, then laughs, his fingers working on the buttons of his shirt, opening it and shrugging it off his shoulders.

Hugh looks down at Callum, and swallows, hard, because he's been thinking about this, just like this, since that night in the alley. Callum looks good, really fucking good, and he's grinning up at Hugh and stroking himself through his jeans like he knows it.

Hugh moves his hands down to open up his own button and zipper. "God, you're such a fucking cunt, you know that?" he says, pulling his t-shirt over his head.

Callum looks down at where Hugh's dick is poking out of his open pants, then looks up at Hugh, and god, he almost comes just from that and has to grab the base of his cock, hard, to keep from embarrassing himself like some fucking sixteen-year-old kid.

Yeah, he's going to fuck Callum right through the mattress, the fucking prick.

Callum doesn't seem to be concerned; he's just sprawled back on the mattress with a half-grin on his face. Hugh swallows as Callum thumbs open the top button on his jeans, then just lets his hands fall back on the bed beside his head. Looking at Callum like that makes Hugh's dick throb, makes him want to take Callum, turn him over and yank his jeans down and fuck him till he's begging for mercy.

Instead he finds himself crawling up over Callum, running his hands up his thin, pale sides (god, he can feel the fucker's ribs too fucking skinny), and kissing him helplessly. Not even rough like he thinks he wants to, but just - kissing him, because he can, because he needs to, soft and fucking intense. And it's fucked up, it should be so fucked up here, but Callum is just opening up under him, like this is how it's supposed to go, kissing Hugh back, his lips so soft, his tongue tracing over Hugh's mouth.

Hugh's moaning deep in his throat, he can't stop and his jeans are still half-on, his dick still so fucking hard, but he just can't stop, can't stop kissing Callum.

When they finally pull back from each other, panting harshly, Callum’s stroking Hugh’s face with his fingertips, and Hugh can’t take it, can’t take how _much_ this all is. He leans back in, slowly this time, the kiss deep and hot and heavy, and reaches up to tangle his hands in Callum’s hair, breaking through the stiffness of the gel. He tugs, just hard enough to make sure that Callum’s here, present, not with one of his fucking bitches in his head instead of with Hugh.

Callum moans into his mouth, and Hugh feels Callum’s hand snake down between them to unfasten his own jeans all the way and get his cock hard up against Hugh’s. Hugh pulls away again, even though it almost _hurts_, and gasps into Callum’s neck. “Jesus.”

Callum laughs softly as he wraps his long, fucking _talented_ hand around both their cocks, stroking just a little rough, just like Hugh likes it. “Yeah, Dillon – god.” Callum’s voice has gone low, hoarse, like it always does when he’s turned on, and just the sound of it against Hugh’s ear makes him jerk up into Callum’s hand.

He’s been worked up since he saw Callum standing in his doorway, and he’s not gonna make it, not the way Callum has them in a firm grip, not with the sweet slide of his own leaking cock against Callum’s. Not fucking long at all.

Callum must have figured that out, though, because right when Hugh’s sure that it’s all over, Callum’s pushing him off, hard, rolling Hugh off and onto his back.

“What the fuck?” Hugh says, louder and harsher than he meant to, but, Jesus Christ, he’s been fucking waiting forever for this, and he _needs_ to fucking come, right fucking now.

“That’s not what I came here for,” Callum answers. Hugh just watches as Callum sighs and spreads his legs, just a little more, and reaches down, letting out a deep, heartfelt sigh. Okay, yeah, Hugh can get with the program here. Hugh is on board with this fucking thing. He twists over to reach the bedside table, comes back with a half-used tube of lube and a strip of condoms.

Callum snorts as Hugh tosses the supplies down beside him. "Classy," he says, but he's shoving his jeans down and off as he says it.

"Class above fucking all," Hugh shoots back before quickly getting rid of his own jeans, and now he's bare-ass naked on the bed with Callum, and fuck, how many times has he jerked off to this idea in the past few weeks? Too many times, maybe, because right now he's so hard it hurts, and Jesus, he wants to fuck Callum, wants to sink into him so deep, so hard, he just -

Callum's gazing up at him, his eyes dark, like he fucking knows what Hugh's been thinking, and Hugh narrows his eyes, rolling on top of Callum and pinning him down by his wrists. Callum, though - Callum just closes his eyes, breathes in deep through his nose, and arches up against Hugh. "Yeah," he says, and his voice is rough, "Yeah," and fuck, fuck, Hugh was ready for a fight or a fuck, he's not sure he's ready for this

Callum’s quiet, and pushing against Hugh’s hands, but not hard enough to actually get away. Hugh moans, and grinds down hard, feeling Callum's cock slick against his. Callum’s muscles flex under the skin beneath Hugh’s fingers, and he almost can’t take it, the fucking _trust_ Callum has to have in him to let him do this. It’s hot, but it’s also scary as hell.

“Dillon, come on, come the fuck _on_,” Callum pants out, writhing as much as he can pinned under Hugh’s weight, testing Hugh’s grip on his wrists.

Hugh wants to say _something_, tell Callum that he’s not sure he can do this and that he wants to do this more than he’s ever wanted to do anything in his entire life, but he can’t make the words come. He’s fucking scared that his voice will give him away.

So, instead, he shifts and grips both of Callum’s wrists with one hand, keeping him pinned to the bed, while leaning over to grab a condom and the lube off the bed. He tries to keep his hand steady while he backs off enough to smooth the condom down his dick.

Callum’s still, relaxed now, and Hugh wants this, _needs_ this, so fucking much, and how the hell did Callum know? He grits his teeth, shakes it off. Grabs hold of Callum's legs, shoves them up harder than he needs to. He kind of wants to turn Callum over; kind of wants to do this without having Callum _look_ at him. But that's a pussy move, and Hugh knows it, and fuck it, just - fuck it.

Callum bends easily under him. His eyes are dark and his cock is leaking, leaving a fucking _puddle_ on his stomach. The fucker wants this too, wants this bad, and Hugh focuses on that. He's thinking he should be careful, he's thinking there should be fingers, first, but Callum, god, Callum's shoving right up against him like he's _ready_ for this. And Hugh - he can't fucking help it, he's pushing forward without ever making a fucking decision about it, sinking into Callum. Just a little ways in, and it's tight, yeah, it's fucking tight, but Callum is just - he's arching back against the bed, moaning deep in his throat. Like this is something he fucking _needs_ and Hugh's panting as he pushes in, keeps pushing in. He can't stop - the sweat is dripping into his eyes, but he can't stop now.

He's pressing steadily forward, and fuck - suddenly, he's all the way in, as far as he can go, and he shakes his head, blinking the sweat out of his eyes to peer down at Callum. Callum, who's panting shallowly, with Hugh balls-deep in his ass, and fucking - god, the fucker is _grinding_ forward against him, like he just wants _more_.

Jesus _Christ_. "Fuck," Hugh grunts out, and pulls back a little before thrusting in again. And even _that's_ enough to make him light-headed.

Callum moans, and tightens his thighs around Hugh's hips. "That - the best - you can do, Dillon?" He's forcing the words out, fucking _tight_ with this, and Hugh watches as another drop falls from the head of Callum's cock onto his belly.

He closes his eyes for a second. He can’t take this shit, has to close his eyes against it, because he doesn’t want to come like some teenage kid inside Callum before he even has a chance to fuck him. He’s been waiting way too damn long to fuck this up.

 

Hugh pulls back slowly, hands braced on the bed above Callum’s shoulders, then thrusts back in. God, Callum’s so tight, tighter than Hugh remembers, and Callum cries out when Hugh bottoms out in his ass. So fucking sweet. Callum’s ready, and Hugh’s fucking _done_ being careful.

Hugh pulls out and thrusts in again, harder and faster than last time, making Callum almost come off the bed with the force of it. “Jesus,” Callum gasps out, and Hugh grins down at him before pulling out again, settling into a hard, driving rhythm in Callum’s ass.

Hugh’s sweating, he can feel the sting in his eyes, and Callum’s taking it, taking it so fucking good, pushing back every time Hugh pushes in. He can feel the wetness from Callum’s cock smearing against his belly, sticking them together, getting wetter and wetter as Hugh bumps up against Callum’s prostate.

It’s quiet, just the sound of Hugh’s panting, Callum’s soft moans, and Hugh’s skin hitting Callum’s at the bottom of each thrust, and he wants to tell Callum how good this is, better than anything. He wants to ask if this is better than with all those stupid cunts, if they can make him come from the inside out like this. If it _feels_ like this.

He shuts his eyes tight, because now he can't stop thinking about it, thinking about Callum with his dick inside some girl, fucking her and looking at her and getting off on her lady-like fucking moans. _Fuck_. Hugh twists his hips, slams deep inside Callum.

Callum's eyes fly open, and he's moaning louder now. "Yeah," he pants, "Come _on_."

Hugh's biting his lip hard enough to taste blood, but it's thrumming in him now, this need to _come_, come deep inside Callum, fucking him like none of those stupid goddamn _cunts_ he dates ever can. Callum's close, he's really fucking close, Hugh can feel it, feel him tense up from the inside, feel his fingertips dig so hard into Hugh's back. One more thrust in, and Callum's coming with a shout, shooting all over his stomach.

Fuck. Hugh bends his neck down, presses his sweaty forehead against Callum's shoulder. He's forcing Callum back and fucking him harder, _harder_, and he can't - he can't fucking look at him as - fuck, it's just too goddamn _much_ -

He comes, and he's shaking so hard he feels like he might fly to pieces here. He keeps his head down against Callum's shoulder as the orgasm rolls through him, trying to fucking keep himself together.

"Christ," he hears Callum breathe against his ear, and then Callum's hand presses on the back of his neck for a second. Hugh braces himself, and pulls out, rolling onto his side as Callum winces, hissing in a pained breath.

Hugh just stays there for a minute, panting up at the ceiling and trying to find his fucking _brain_ in the mess of all this. He can hear Callum’s breath beside him, and Hugh’s clenching his hands in the sheets to keep from reaching out. Instead, he pushes off the bed and grabs his jeans off the floor where he’d dropped them, pulling out a half-crushed pack of cigarettes and shaking out two before lighting them both. Callum’s still quiet, but his right hand is flailing out, trying to get one of the cigarettes in his hand. It’s pretty fucking funny, and Hugh laughs softly before leaning up and placing the cigarette against Callum’s lips.

“Fuck,” Callum whispers, grabbing onto Hugh’s hand to hold it at his mouth while he takes a deep drag. Hugh’s hand falls away as Callum reaches up to take the cigarette out of his mouth and exhale a long stream of smoke into the room.

Hugh props himself up, cigarette dangling from his lips, and watches Callum, smoking like he fucks: sexy, perfect, filling up everything. “I think we already did that.”

Callum’s laugh breaks the quiet that’s been hanging in the room since they finished fucking, and Hugh’s relieved by it, relieved he didn’t have to be the one to do it. “Are you ever going to get past age twelve, Hugh?”

“You love it,” Hugh says back, a hint of something in his voice, almost daring Callum to say _something_.

“Yeah,” Callum says, so softly it’s almost just a breath out into the room, along with the smoke, and Hugh can’t be sure he heard it, but he holds onto it just the same. The room’s quiet again, and they both smoke in silence until Hugh takes their cigarettes and grinds them out into the ashtray on the nightstand. When he lays back down, Callum’s there, wrapping him tightly in his arms, and Hugh gives into it, figuring he can just say he was tired later.

* * *

Callum's been working steadily for months now, gigs that seem to take him everywhere but where Hugh is. He's in Nova Scotia, he's in Ashcroft, he's down in fucking LA. The man's a world fucking traveler, harder to track down than Hugh's agent. Hugh's been busy too, sure, working on a new album, cutting some tracks, it's all good, and he hardly ever has time to even think about calling Callum.

He does, though - he breaks down and calls him. A couple of times. He catches him once in the middle of the day, and plays him a few chords of his new song over the phone. Hugh's excited about it, and Callum's cool - when Hugh puts the phone back to his ear, Callum asks to hear the next verse.

But that's about it, and it's not until the party at Bruce’s house that Hugh spots him through the crowd. He didn't even know the fucker was in town. Hugh puts down his drink, and shoulders his way through the people to get to Callum. He's close before he spots the girl that's got her fingers wrapped around Callum's hand, hanging onto him.

_Fucker._

He almost backs off, but Callum's spotted him, so Hugh just strides right up to him. "Rennie, you fucker, what are you, slumming?" Hugh's all smooth attitude.

Callum breaks into a grin, sudden and bright. "Always." He pulls away from the bitch clinging to him, gives Hugh a firm handshake, like they're buddies.

Hugh lifts his chin at him, snorting. "Right."

"You know Valerie?" Callum's got his hand on the small of the woman's back. It's a different chick than last time, and she's got several inches on Callum. What is _with_ him and these giant women, anyway?

And no, he doesn't know her, and doesn't fucking _care_ to. He just bares his teeth at her. "Sure."

Fucking _Valerie_ holds out her hand, looking at Hugh like she’s trying to figure out if she knows him from somewhere, if he’s worth her goddamn time or something. Hugh shakes her hand, feels her bright red painted nails brush against the side of his hand as she pulls away. Callum’s pulling her close, and it takes everything Hugh’s got not to roll his eyes.

“Good seeing you, maybe we’ll catch up later,” Hugh says, with a nod to both of them, before he turns and goes back into the crowd.

He hears Callum call, “Yeah,” after him, and he turns back to see Callum, Valerie draped on his arm, but Callum’s eyes are on Hugh and Hugh only.

Hugh's gotta have a fucking break from all these _people_. He throws open the door to the bathroom and kicks it shut behind him. He's itching for a cigarette but he doesn't fucking smoke when he's recording. He leans his head his head back against the wall, sighing. Everything just fucking _sucks_ right now.

Still, he’s only half surprised when the door to the bathroom opens, brushing against him as he leans there against the wall. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that it’s Callum’s heat he can feel, inches from his body.

"What the fuck do you want, Rennie? Can't a guy take a piss in peace?"

When he wearily blinks his eyes open, Callum is leaning in, and Hugh wants to bolt, he wants to get on his knees, he doesn't know _what_ the fuck he wants. God, he hates this, hates wanting Callum this much, enough to act like a fucking pussy. But he can’t move, Callum’s got him pinned with just his eyes and the hand above Hugh’s head on the wall. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” Callum’s voice is low and hoarse and Hugh moans into the small tiled room. He feels it like a connection to his cock when Callum’s tongue runs up the side of his exposed throat.

Hugh knows he can’t just stand there and take it, he needs some fucking control, so he grabs Callum by the waist and slams him against the opposite wall, hard, hearing a soft grunt in the back of Callum’s throat on impact.

Callum just grins at him. "Miss me?"

There's a twist in Hugh's gut, and half of him - _more_ than half - wants to be mad. A big fucking part of him wants to smack the grin right off of Callum's face, but instead he's saying, "Fuck no, you fucking cunt." Then he's right up against him, kissing him as hard as he can, and fumbling in between them, opening Callum's pants, getting his hand wrapped around his cock.

"What'd you do with your girlfriend?" Hugh pants against Callum's face as he strokes him. The fucker was hard before Hugh laid a hand on him; now he's got his head tilted back against the wall, watching Hugh through his eyelashes as his cock leaves wet streaks on the inside of Hugh's wrist. "She out there waiting for you?"

"_God_." Callum's eyes flutter closed as Hugh swipes his thumb over the head of his cock. "Yeah." He's breathing hard. "Yeah, she is, actually."

"Jesus Christ, you fucker." Hugh's own cock is throbbing up against his zipper. Fuck, that fucking - Vanessa, Valerie, whatever her fucking name is - out there in her tiny skirt, tapping her foot in those too-high heels and waiting while Callum is - while the two of them are -

 

"C'mon," Callum says thickly, thrusting his cock into the circle of Hugh's fist. "Anyone could just -"

Hugh's panting himself now, can't catch his fucking breath, because yeah, anyone could come in, and Canada's like a small fucking town, one person sees him and Callum together and _everyone_ fucking knows. "Worried?" he manages. "Don't want the cunt out there seeing this side of you?"

He's stroking Callum hard, fast, can't slow down now, and Callum's got his mouth open, gasping for breath, his hands clenched on Hugh's shoulders. "Fuck -" Callum says breathlessly, his eyes shut tight as he slams his head back against the wall. "_Fuck_." He's coming over Hugh's fist, thick and hot and wet, before finally slumping back against the wall. He's got blotches of color high in his cheeks, and it takes a couple of beats before he opens his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Fuck, no," he says, and he's flashing Hugh a grin even as he nudges Hugh's hand away from his dick.

Hugh stays there for a minute, his hand, still covered in come, dangling between them, his cock hard as _fuck_ inside his overpriced pants. He doesn’t know what to do, he’s so pissed off and turned on, and he kind of wants to kiss Callum, but he can’t give the cunt the fucking _satisfaction_. So, instead, he pushes away from the wall, away from Callum, takes two steps towards the sink to wash his hands off while Callum fastens himself up.

A couple of seconds later, Callum’s pressed against Hugh’s back, hands on his forearms, and Hugh takes a deep breath, then exhales, letting out everything he’s being carrying for days, months, _years_, melting back into Callum. Callum’s kissing his neck, softly, and, god, he’s so turned on from jacking Callum off. One of Callum’s hands moves across Hugh’s belly, stroking softly, and Hugh’s fucking _primed_.

Callum’s breath’s soft in his ear, making Hugh shake, just a little bit. “I gotta go.” Hugh takes another breath. What the fuck was he thinking?

“Okay, yeah,” Hugh says, twisting himself out of Callum’s arms and grabbing a towel, drying his hands and tossing it into the wastebasket before walking out of the bathroom, not looking back.

Valerie’s standing by the bar, and Hugh acknowledges her with a nod before walking into the cool night air.

* * *

When Hugh gets home, he kicks the door shut behind him with enough force that the walls shake. He strips the tie off, lets the fucking expensive suit jacket fall to the floor, and kicks it into the corner for good measure. He sits down on the couch to light a cigarette, and then gets right back up again, pacing and _not_ thinking about tonight. Not thinking about Callum - fucking Hollywood Callum - letting him jerk him off in the bathroom where _anyone_ could have come in. Not thinking about Callum leaving the party with that skank hanging all over him.

Whatever. Hugh takes a deep breath, shakes his shoulders out. He wanders over to the window, stares out blankly at the dark street below, and takes slow, careful drags of his cigarette, tries to clear his fucking mind.

He's tired, is all. That's it. He flips on the TV and sits down, and doesn't think about _anything_.

When he goes to bed that night, though, he can't fucking sleep. It's running over and over in his head, Callum, somewhere across town, with fucking _Valerie_. He's lying there in the dark and his head is pounding with it, with the image of the two of them against the sheets, long legs tangled together - _Christ_. It's like a fucking slideshow in his head - Callum, kissing her deeply as he rocks up against her, his cock sliding slickly against her. Callum, sprawled between her legs, eating her out while she arches her back, her long nails digging into Callum's shoulder. Callum fucking her, really going at it, staring down at her with that smoky, intense look that he gets when he's really, really into it.

Jesus. Hugh rolls over onto his back, forcing his eyes open and panting up at the ceiling. He's so fucking hard he could die from it.

So, he does what any sane man would do, right? He pushes his boxers down around his ankles with both hands, kicking them off before settling in with his right hand stroking slowly up and down his cock. He knows exactly what he’s going to see when he closes his eyes, but he can’t fight it, can’t fucking make himself stop this shit once and for all.

When Hugh finally gives in, the image of Callum and Valerie is right back there, clear as fuck, inside his head. Except this time, he’s not just watching, he’s _there_. His hands are running up and down the soft skin on Callum’s hip, and he’s watching them. Watching Callum work his long fingers into her cunt, slick and hot, and she arches up with a loud moan as he curls his fingers inside her.

Hugh’s laughing, and Callum’s laughing along with him, softly, because Callum clearly loves this, loves pussy, because he’s letting out these tiny, barely loud enough to hear moans every time Valerie pushes back against his hand, crying out when Callum hits the right spot inside her. Hugh’s more than okay with watching; watching is fucking _great_, but the two of them…Jesus Christ. Now he kind of knows, after all those months, why it always pissed him off and got him a little hot and bothered. Because he loves to watch Callum like this, heavy-lidded and turned on and ready to fuck, but Hugh wants it to be for _him_, not some stupid bimbo bitch.

Hugh slides his hand between Callum and Valerie, feels Callum’s three fingers pumping in and out of her cunt, before slipping two fingers against her clit. She’s got a fucking hair trigger, and her whole body tightens up before she lets out a moan and comes all over Callum’s hand, which is still fucking her, not letting up a bit.

Hugh pulls his hand away, and is pushing his wet fingers into Callum’s mouth, letting him suck Valerie’s juices off his fingers before pulling them out and replacing them with his tongue. God, the taste of her cunt and Callum’s mouth, it’s almost enough to make him come before he can even get his dick out. Callum’s into it, pushing his tongue back at Hugh’s. Hugh can vaguely hear Valerie still moaning softly beneath them, Callum’s hand still buried in her cunt.

Hugh pulls back, and Callum's staring at him, his eyes heavy and hazy with sex.

"Do it," Hugh orders him. He wants to see this, needs to see this.

Callum's lips curve into a smile, and he tilts his head, looking at Hugh for a long moment before nodding slowly. Hugh leans back to unbuckle his belt, shove his jeans down and off, finally, fucking _finally_ releasing his hard, aching cock. Callum, watching him, still with that smile on his face, slides his hand out of Valerie, and reaches forward, circling Hugh's cock with his slick fist.

"_Fuck_." Hugh's hips jerk up, and Callum's grin widens. He kisses Hugh roughly, shoving his tongue into his mouth, before pulling back, giving Hugh's cock one final stroke before turning back to Valerie.

She's spread out, watching them. Her eyes are dark, and she's got her hand between her own thighs now, stroking her clit as her eyes flick back and forth between them. Hugh lifts his chin at her, his eyes on Callum. "Well?"

Callum turns his gaze to Valerie, moves to slide back on top of her. She's moaning breathlessly and he hasn't even done anything yet. Callum's kissing her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, and Hugh is stroking himself - slow, steady, he's gonna last this one all the way out - to the same slow, gentle thrusts of Callum's hips as his cock slides up against her clit.

She's gasping, now, urging him on. Her long legs are up around his hips as she throws her head back, her eyes closed, begging, "Please, please, _please_." And Callum - Callum's got his head tilted, looking at Hugh as he slides inside her.

Valerie lets out a deep, sexy-as-hell moan. Hugh knows, knows because he’s felt it inside him too, how good Callum’s long, thick cock feels. Callum ducks his head down and braces himself on his hands, fucking her with slow, hard strokes, making her moan and shake every time he bottoms out. Her fingers are still working her clit, faster now, and they’re all in the same rhythm: Hugh stroking his dick, Callum fucking her, and her stroking her clit.

Hugh feels a little weird, and half of him is wishing that Valerie would disappear, and the other half's wishing that he could slide balls-deep into her wet, tight cunt, make Callum watch Hugh taking her, making her come on his dick. Instead, he just watches, and tries not to think so damn much.

Suddenly, Callum’s changing his angle, pushing deep inside Valerie and making her pretty fucking happy from the amount of noise she's making. Her long fucking nails are making long red marks down Callum's back. Callum is giving it to her good, his thrusts speeding up, and she’s a loud, thrashing fuck, and he can kind of see why Callum is so into her.

And Hugh - man, he's stroking his dick in time, not even noticing, and he forces himself to slow down, to back off, opening his eyes for a second, staring up at the dark ceiling of his own bedroom, blocking out the scene in his head that's going to have him coming in seconds if he doesn't calm the fuck down. When he shuts his eyes again, lets himself slide back into it, Valerie's moans have picked up pace, and Callum - Callum has that look on his face. He's gonna come, he's close, he's _damn_ fucking close. His eyes are fluttering shut, and he's taking these gasping little breaths, his mouth open, as he thrusts inside her again, and again, and fuck, oh _fuck_, Hugh grabs his cock roughly, squeezing, _making_ himself back the fuck down. Because Callum's moaning out loud and thrusting in one last time, coming deep inside her, as she writhes and thrashes underneath him.

Hugh's panting himself, his mouth dry, as he watches Callum press his forehead against her shoulder, catching his breath before he rolls off of her. Callum runs one finger lightly over her chin, turning her head, and leaning in to kiss her for several long moments. When he pulls back, he looks at her, then nods his head over at Hugh. She blinks, then turns her head, her hair a tousled mess behind her. She's _looks_ fucked, thoroughly fucked; she's come three times at _least_, and still, she gives Hugh a look that's positively _dirty_, and smiles at him, real welcoming.

Yeah, Hugh can _definitely_ understand what Callum sees in her.

Hugh moves over her, kissing her, licking the taste of Callum’s mouth out of hers. She’s a great kisser, a little sloppy, and yeah, Callum picked a good one this time. His hand is at the edge of her cunt, and he can feel her, wet and dripping all over her thighs, her come and Callum’s come all mixed up. It’s hotter than it should be, running his fingers in the wetness there, then pushing them smoothly inside her, feeling her clench down a bit and moan helplessly into Hugh’s mouth. Yeah.

He’s thinking about fucking her, sliding his cock into her tight, hot pussy, fucking her until she forgets Callum, until all she can think about is how Hugh’s fucking her, hard and perfect. If she forgets, then maybe Hugh can get Callum to forget, too.

Instead, he moves down her body, sucking her tight, hard nipples into his mouth on the way, getting another loud moan, which goes straight to his cock. He’s down between her legs and she’s open and so fucking wet, and there’s come _everywhere_, and he pushes her legs open, just a little wider, before leaning down and running his tongue along the full length of her cunt.

“God,” she whispers, like she’s too tired to say it much louder than that, and she buries her hand in Hugh’s hair as he settles in to eat her cunt. She tastes amazing, she’s full of Callum’s come, and Hugh’s licking it out of her, rolling the taste over his tongue. Hugh feels Callum’s fingers stroking his side, mouth coming up to lick along his earlobe, tugging on Hugh’s earring with his teeth, to whisper in his ear.

“Yeah, Dillon, you like that?” Callum’s saying, not loud enough for Valerie to hear. “You like tasting me inside her? Yeah, come on…so fucking good…”

Hugh moans into her cunt, making her tighten her thighs around his head a little. God, she’s going to come _again_, and Hugh’s going to come all over the sheets if he’s not careful. He’s licking her clit, hard now, and she’s writhing around underneath him, and Callum’s kissing his neck, sucking hard, leaving marks, and Jesus Christ –

Suddenly, it’s like everything breaks. Valerie clamps down hard and she’s saying something that Hugh can’t make out, he doesn’t even fucking _care_ really, but she’s coming and Hugh’s pulling away and pushing into her cunt with one steady stroke, and Callum’s right there, watching Hugh’s dick in her cunt.

And he thought he wanted to come inside her, erase Callum in some way, but instead, he pulls out after only a few thrusts, his dick hard and glistening with her come and Callum’s come, and looks at Callum, almost daring him.

And Callum - this is why Hugh loves the fucker so goddamn much - Callum raises an eyebrow, that same quiet half-smile on his face, before sliding closer easily, and taking Hugh's cock in his mouth. And Jesus Christ, it's so fucking hot, Callum down there with his eyes closed, his long fingers wrapped around the base of Hugh's cock, sucking the combination of come off of it. His face is intense, and he's really going at it, sucking Hugh so steady and good that Hugh feels it in his fucking _spine_.

"Fuck," he chokes out, wrapping his hands in Callum's hair. He's not pushing him, not shoving, he doesn't fucking _have_ to. Callum is _all over_ this, right in charge, _perfectly_ in charge. He doesn't care that Valerie is still sprawled there, watching, doesn't care at all that she's watching him being a bona-fide cocksucker, and a damn good one at that. He's got all of his concentration focused on Hugh's dick, taking him in deep and steady. And Hugh's close, he's fucking desperate to come, he's had it up to forever, for fucking _ever_. He never even came when he jerked Callum off in the bathroom, never came while Callum fucked the hell out of Valerie, and now all he wants, all he wants in the whole fucking world, is to hang onto Callum and come down his throat.

He panting openly, staring down at Callum, and he's so close, so close, he can't stop moving his hips, thrusting into Callum's mouth, and Callum is just taking it, smooth and easy, like it's all he wants in the world. And Jesus, now Callum's got his hand around his own cock; he's hard again, hard just from sucking Hugh.

Callum’s working his throat now, just swallowing Hugh’s dick, and he’s not going to last, he can’t, god, not like this. He pulls on Callum’s hair hard, enough to make Callum moan onto his dick, and, _fuck_, that’s it – he’s coming down Callum’s throat, Callum gasping and sighing around him as he brings himself off again, into his hand. Valerie’s been saying something, but neither of them even heard her, they’re so wrapped up in each other, and Hugh kind of can’t believe Callum would risk this. He doesn’t care, let Callum worry about, because Callum’s sucking him, all the way through, holding Hugh in his mouth until Hugh has to pull away, pull out, because it’s too damn much.

He looks down at Callum, who’s wiping a few drops of Hugh’s come off the side of his mouth with the back of his hand, and if that isn’t the hottest thing Hugh’s seen in a goddamn long time, he doesn’t know what it is. He reaches down to stroke Callum’s hair, damp with sweat, off his forehead.

When Hugh opens his eyes, he’s alone, on his bed with his hand around his limp dick, come all over his hand and his stomach where his shirt has ridden up around his ribcage. He’s panting, and, fuck, this is so pathetic, so desperate for Callum that he’d fuck one of Callum’s parade of bimbos just to be with him. He closes his eyes again, and is beyond relieved not to see Callum and Valerie there still, Callum’s mouth red and bruised and _beautiful_ from Hugh fucking his mouth.

His discarded boxers are at the end of the bed, and, after he wipes off his hand and his stomach on the sheets, he sits at the edge of the bed and puts them back on. He’s tired. He’s so fucking _tired_ of this shit.

* * *

The band gets a one-shot fill-in gig, and it's for a buddy of Hugh's, at one of the first places he played when he was first starting out. He owes the guy, and besides, he misses playing for an audience in between tours. There's not time for much advertising, but the gig is local, and Hugh figures they'll at least draw a decent crowd.

And it works out good; the place is actually packed and the crowd is totally into it. Hugh's having a good fucking time - last minute gig, and he didn't even dress up. He's up on stage in just black jeans and a ratty old sweater, and he's not thinking about anything but the music, singing his fucking heart out and sweating like crazy. It's not till the end of the third song that he spots the spiky hair, the distinctive tilt of his head - it's Callum, standing towards the back of the club. He's slouched against a table by the wall, still wearing his long winter coat, even though the place is warm. As Hugh watches, he lifts his head from lighting a cigarette, and tilts his head back against the wall, blowing out a long stream of smoke.

Even from this far away, Hugh gets mesmerized by the long line of Callum's throat catching the diffused light of the club, and he comes in a beat late on the start of the next song. Jesus. Fucking _focus_ here, he orders himself, and he does, he really fucking does, but he can't keep his eyes off of Callum for the rest of the show. The fucker never moves, just leans there, smoking and watching Hugh move on stage. It's like Hugh can _feel_ the weight of his gaze, and he has to keep wrenching himself back, center himself in the goddamn performance.

He finishes the fucking show somehow, and he's panting for breath as he strides offstage. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t say a damn thing, just grabs a water from the side of the stage and heads for the dressing room, suddenly needs to get somewhere quiet, breathe. _Fuck_.

When Hugh gets there, he pushes the door open, fumbling on the table for the cigarettes he'd seen lying there before the show. He gets one into his mouth and lights it, feeling the nicotine hit him, and everything’s okay again, for just a minute. He’s kicking the door shut with one beat-to-hell boot, but it doesn’t shut all the way, because someone’s blocking it.

Callum’s pushing the door open, and Hugh almost loses his balance, burns his hand a little on the cigarette. Callum’s got a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and he’s smiling around it. Hugh feels the blood rush from his head straight down to his cock.

“Where’s Valerie?” he spits out, turning his back on Callum, willing himself not to make a fucking fool of himself here.

Hugh can _hear_ the grin in Callum's voice.. “What does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. I couldn't care less how many cunts you fuck.” Hugh doesn’t move.

Callum laughs, and Hugh can feel him, getting closer. “Whatever you say, Dillon.” Hugh hears Callum take a deep drag on his cigarette, then exhale. “Sometimes I think you forget that I fucking _know_ you.”

That fucker. Hugh was going to fucking _kill_ him. Who the fuck does he think he is? He spins around, ready to lash out. “Fuck you. God, fucking _fuck_ you. You don’t know shit about me. What the hell does it matter anyway? You get me, you get your whores, you’re happy.”

Callum’s got him, and no matter how hard he tries, Hugh can never, ever look away from him when he’s got Hugh pinned down with his eyes. Callum flicks his cigarette and steps closer, just a little. “Who says I’m happy? You clearly don’t know shit about _me_ either.”

Hugh looks at him, sharply, and can see that Callum looks fucking _tired_, as tired and as old as Hugh feels sometimes, and he just hasn’t seen it until now. Callum sighs, then steps forward so that he’s pressed up against Hugh with his whole body, the wall hard behind Hugh’s back. He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table next to them. When he’s done, he turns back to Hugh and reaches up his hand to trace along the side of Hugh’s face. Hugh doesn’t want to, he wants to fucking _end_ this right now, but he pushes into it, and before he can even say stop, Callum’s lips are on his.

Hugh's all fucked up inside - he wants to shove Callum away, wants to punch him in the face, but he can't stop kissing him. He's got his hands firm on Callum's hips, hanging onto him, keeping him close, and Callum's got his hands on Hugh's face, deepening the kiss. The door's not even all the way shut; he can hear people going by outside, but it all fades away. He's fucking _lost_ in this, and he knows he's a pussy, he _knows_ he should be angry, but he just - can't. The anger slides away just like everything else, and he doesn’t even know how long they're leaning there against the wall, kissing. Just kissing. It's not rough or tough or aggressive - it's just _them_.

When Callum finally pulls back, Hugh feels dazed by it, his brain is moving slow, and he can't let go of Callum. Callum's looking at him and Hugh's face gets hot, but Callum's not grinning or even giving him that half-smile. He just looks relaxed - the tension around his eyes has eased a little.

Hugh tries to summon up a hard look to give him, but he can't quite get there. Instead, makes himself pull his hands away. He lost his cigarette somewhere along the line, and he's patting his pockets looking for more as he says, roughly, "This isn't a fucking game, you know, Rennie."

Callum nods slowly, and when Hugh finally finds his pack, fumbles his cigarette into his mouth, Callum slides his own lighter into Hugh’s hands. Hugh's got the cigarette lit before he notices it's an old Headstones lighter. Christ, he gave that to Callum back during Hard Core fucking Logo, at the end of that tour, when Callum was riding with the old band. Callum's been holding onto it all this time.

Hugh turns it over in his hand for a couple of seconds before tossing it back to Callum. "Thanks," he says, and tilts his head back, blows a stream of smoke over Callum's head.

Callum gives him a long look, then slides the lighter back into his pocket. "No problem."

They’re quiet, just standing there, and Hugh feels like he should say _something_, but he’s not sure if there’s anything left to be said, or if they’ve said anything at all. Callum’s lighting another cigarette, and looking at Hugh, and Hugh swears he keeps opening his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, just silence, stretching out over them.

Hugh finishes his cigarette and throws the butt in the ashtray before he pulls Callum a little closer by the front of his sweater, gently, enough to _feel_ him there. He leans forward to rest his forehead against Callum’s, and it’s tender, so fucking unlike them. Callum’s still smoking, turning his head to blow the smoke to the side, then coming back to look at Hugh. Hugh reaches up to cup the back of Callum’s neck, feeling the soft, short hair until his fingers.

Okay, enough of this. Time to face the music. “All right, listen. Here’s the thing.”

Callum pulls away, startled, but Hugh holds on to him, keeps his hand anchored on Callum’s neck, grounding him there. “Okay, I’m listening,” Callum says, putting out his cigarette and moving closer again.

“I really don’t care about the women. I really and truly don’t.”

“Okay. It just – well, it kind of seemed like you cared. A lot, actually.” Callum’s got one hand on Hugh’s hip now, and Hugh can feel the warmth of Callum’s skin through his clothes.

Hugh sighed. “I care about you. It scares the fuck out of me, and I hate that I feel like this, but it’s not them. It’s you.”

Callum doesn’t say anything, and he’s looking down now, fidgeting with the ring on his left hand. God, this is so stupid, it’s not like Callum’s his fucking boyfriend or life partner or husband or any of that shit, and he should have just kept his stupid fucking mouth _shut_. He should take what he can get, and just fucking deal with the rest of it.

In what seems like a fit of insanity, he puts his fingers under Callum’s chin and tilts his head up, and there are a million things in the look Callum gives him. Hugh kind of gets that he’s scared shitless too. That he doesn’t know what to do with this thing either, this thing that they keep coming back to, no matter how badly they treat each other, no matter how many girls they fuck.

“Yeah." Callum lifts his chin at Hugh, looking at him, his eyes really fucking dark. "Me too.”

Hugh feels a slow curl of heat in his stomach, just from that. He rubs his thumb softly against the back of Callum's neck. "I -"

They both jump a mile when the door bangs open. Chris comes in with his bass in his hand and it's like the whole world pours in with him. The chatter and music and noise of the club seems tremendously loud all of a sudden. Hugh lets go of Callum, but Callum doesn't jump back or anything, just moves to lean against the wall next to Hugh.

"Good show, eh?" Chris says, settling his bass in the corner. He's got that vague look in his eyes he gets after shows, and Hugh'd bet money he doesn't even notice the weird tension in the room.

"Yeah, not bad, huh?" They talk a little bit about the crowd and Chris gets on his case about coming in late on that one song, though Hugh gives him shit right back about fucking up a chord later on, and it's all good. The whole time, Callum is leaning there, smoking quietly. He's so close, Hugh can feel his arm brushing against him every time he lifts his cigarette to his lips, and it's making him hard. He doesn't know how he manages the conversation, but finally Chris gives them both a wave and heads back out the door.

And even with the door closed, Hugh still feels the noise, the crowd. He takes a breath, and tilts his head towards Callum. "You want to get out of here?"

"Yeah." Callum's voice sounds rough, and Hugh has to swallow before he can talk again, because fuck, the sound of his voice and the dark look in his eye is giving Hugh _ideas_.

"Come on." Hugh shoves off the wall, nudging Callum's shoulder as he goes. He heads out the door and doesn't look back. He knows Callum's right behind him.

~end~


End file.
